


Eating Out.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: Contrelamontre!Goldeneye!AU [3]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: contrelamontre, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-11
Updated: 2003-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:05:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec takes James out for dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eating Out.

**Author's Note:**

> Follows All's Fair and Love and War. Written for contrelamontre forty-five minute food challenge, though I cheated a little bit. I was already going to write this, then I discovered it was the challenge. So I just used the challenge as an excuse to write it.
> 
> Dedication: To Luna, who helped me out with the meal.

James was coming along nicely. He had lost the skeleton look he was so ill-suited for and had gained back muscles. It was time for Alec to keep his promise. James was like a child now and you _don't_ break promises to children. They tend to hold it against you. Alec was trying to win James over, not alienate him. An agent without a handler is the stuff of nightmares.

Alec found James in the weight room, working on the bench press. Over the months, Alec had slowly increased the weights until James was benching what he used to, and five sets of it. He was molding the perfect bodyguard. Alec had returned James his Beretta, salvaged from the M-15 junkyard all those years ago, but ordered his lover to keep the Walther in a secondary holster. He was buying James' loyalty, not putting his own life in danger. The Beretta jammed, but it was still James' first love and was always in his heart.

Alec watched James strain against the bar until James counted twelve, and then threw a towel at him. "Shower and then dress. Clothes are on the bed."

James was too winded to speak, nodding only as he took the towel and wiped off his face. A life of liquor and tobacco weren't going to keep him healthy, but neither of them worried about a premature death. James would die because someone wanted him to die, not because his body refused to go on. No one in their line of work died in their bed from old age. It was completely unthinkable. Secret agents and mafia leaders lived for the day, and the day was still young.

Alec laid out James' tuxedo for him and spent the next half hour working on paperwork. His German contacts were hinting towards a major purchase that could potentially exhaust Alec's supply of anti-tank missiles, while the Ukrainians wanted M16s and Uzis. Each purchase would have to be traced back to the source and representatives would have to be met and screened. Alec was nothing if not cautious.

James entered Alec's office and Alec looked up to note with pleasure that James was wearing both holsters. Good. Alec hated having to tell James something twice. Alec would, of course, be carrying personal arms, but it was nice having his own black-clad bodyguard protecting his back. James' coat was cut so that it didn't interfere with reaching either the Beretta or the Walther and the pants showed off James' ass. There was a look of blank submission on James' face - a look that would be replaced instantly with one of bored ruthlessness once they went outside. James took his duties very seriously, though he was still somewhat nervous around other people. His training had told him to see everyone as a target and Alec had done his best to override that into paranoia. James only felt safe and secure while with Alec. Alec delighted in exposing James to strangers for an hour each day and watch from behind one-way glass as James retreated more and more into himself. James was getting used to them but, without fail, Alec would return after two hours and see a mask, with a shuddering little boy hiding behind it. It was a good look for James Bond.

"I'm sorry we won't be going to Moscow, James, but I think you'll have a perfectly wonderful time here. St. Petersburg has a lot to offer," Alec stood from his desk, gathered up his papers, and then checked the safety on his own Browning, "if you know where to look for it."

James nodded wordlessly and fell into step with Alec. Employees were to keep two steps back, but what good was a bodyguard if he couldn't see what you saw? James would need to react quickly were there to be a threat to his principle, even if the only reaction possible was to push Alec to the ground and cover him as a human shield. And James _would_ take a bullet for him, Alec had made certain of that. And keeping James in a cast for six weeks had placed James securely into a position of dependence. James had needed Alec's help for everything from showers to stairs.

Alec slipped a handwritten note to the chauffeur and pulled James into the back of the limousine with him. James landed on Alec's lap and, before he could move away, Alec brought his arms around James' waist. He rested his head on James' shoulder, unzipped James' pants, and placed his right hand at the base of James' cock. Alec's left hand stayed by James' hip, gripping tightly. Alec didn't stroke, preferring instead to just hold James' cock in his hand and know it was his. James kept himself still. Alec had never ordered him not to thrust against his hand, nor had he ever ordered him to ask permission before grinding his ass against Alec's erection. That was one of the reasons he loved him. He didn't _have_ to tell James everything. James had been doing this long enough to know what he was supposed to do and what he wasn't supposed to do. It was as simple as that.

Alec removed his hand when he heard the driver slow down for the checkpoint. By the time the driver opened the door in front of the restaurant, James was on the seat across from Alec, looking like nothing had happened. His legs were crossed at the ankle and his right hand was hovering lazily over the Walther just in case there was an enemy on the other side of the bullet-proof glass. He glared at the driver like the man had interrupted some serious contemplation, and exited the limousine. He kept his body squarely blocking the opening as he surveyed the front of the restaurant and its surroundings. He turned to examine the top of the building behind him for snipers. Only when he found no threats did he allow Alec to leave the armored car. James took his job _very_ seriously and it was sexy as hell.

The head waiter didn't bother to ask for their coats and James dropped a respectful step behind Alec. Safety was assured inside the premises. It was outside where the problems lay. James was a registered bodyguard so he was allowed to keep his guns sans bullets and, in a testament to the friskers' professionalism, no one blinked when James turned out to be naked under the trousers, nor when they discovered his erection. Apparently some people found being frisked arousing. Alec made a note to explore this possibility some time in the future. James was a perfect slut for him already, the rest was just dressing.

"I'll have the veal orloff with the side salad and my companion will have the same. No wine." Alec had survived this far because of his aberration for taking unnecessary chances. Wine disturbs the body, slowly down reaction time. James could thrive on vodka martinis, but Alec hated the way they tasted on James' tongue, so he was weaning him off of them. "Black coffee with the meal."

The waiter nodded and hurried away. He wore a radio antenna in his left ear and had a throat mike clipped to the collar of his shirt. The kitchen would already be preparing the food. Places like these liked to get the customer served as quickly as possible. Unhappy customers meant dead employees. Dissatisfaction was not a word in the vocabulary of the managing staff here, Alec knew. The food would be delivered with all speed and hands would be kept where everyone could see them.

Alec tracked the movements of the people across the room, keeping a mental list of allies and enemies that had chosen to patronize this establishment tonight. And, oh, joy, Ivanski just had to be one of them. Alec nudged James' foot under the table and James placed his hands to either side of his plate. No violence here. Even a perceived threat was enough to get thrown out. James was looking a little too ready to hurt the next person that looked at his handler wrong.

"Janus, what a complete surprise."

"I'm sure," Alec replied, leaning back in his chair and regarding Ivanski with a cool look. "What can I do for you?"

Ivanski ignored him. "That's a delightful specimen you have there," he purred, flicking a finger out to run across James' chin. James glared at him but didn't move. He was muscle and of course this bastard thought he was hired.

"He's not for sale."

"'I'm sure'," Ivanski mocked. He moved his hand to James' hair and forced James' head to turn to the right, then the left. "What's his name?"

"Stock." At least, that was the name Alec had decided for James. A little joke on his part and it always amused him to say it. "Walter Stock."

"And, Walter Stock, does your employer have a monopoly on your time?"

James didn't answer. Alec caught his desperation, the way he was beginning to sink completely into himself. Alec had intended to scare James tonight, yes, but a scare of his own making. Unwanted men should not be making unwanted advances and James looked to Alec to get rid of the interloper.

"He may do as he wish when he is off-duty."

"And?"

"He is never off-duty."

"Come, now," the fat man switched his tone to jovial and he laughed loudly as if Alec had made some incredible joke. "Surely you can't be paying him that much."

"I don't pay him."

"Then I can buy him off of you for nothing."

Alec smiled coldly. "Walter, answer the man. He wants to buy your company for the time it takes for him to get it up, then get it in you, then move it around a couple times before he paints you with his ineffective semen. Are you interested in taking him up on his offer?"

"No, sir." James' voice was stiff, formal, and Alec could hear the way it was beginning to shatter.

"And why is that, Walter?"

"Don't find him attractive, sir."

"Is that because he's fat, Walter?"

"No, sir. It's because he doesn't like you, sir."

Ivanski recoiled from that and muttered curses about loyalty as a misplaced emotion as he stalked off. James was a bodyguard and speaking was not part of his job description, so he kept quiet through the rest of the meal and a second cup of coffee. Only when Alec pulled him against himself when they were on their way back to the compound did James start to shake. He fractured against Alec's hands and began to cry.

"I'm never letting you go, James. Never. You know that." Alec pressed his lips against James' sweating temple and held him through the shuddering until it passed completely.

It was times like these, Alec reflected, when he wondered if this was love or was it obsession.

He always concluded that there wasn't any difference.


End file.
